Chapter 25
My heart leaps into my throat as I stare down at the caller ID on Ryan's phone screen. Hank Shoemaker. My landlord. Or former landlord, I guess, since I'm currently standing in the bedroom I now share with Ryan, surrounded by piles of our clean laundry mixed together.
Ryan is frozen in the doorway, his expression a mixture of guilt and panic. I finish folding the pair of jeans in my hands, placing them on the bed as I try to calm the frantic galloping in my chest.
“Ryan,” I say sharply, needing him to snap out of whatever silent spell he's under. “What's going on?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Finally, he manages, “I wanted to tell you before, Ads. I swear I did. But I just couldn't find the words.”
Dread curdles in my stomach. “Tell me what, exactly?”
The call ends, leaving us in ringing silence. Ryan runs a hand through his hair, his eyes pleading.
“I did it because I care about you, Addison.”
I hold up a hand, cutting him off as the pieces start clicking into place. “Wait. Are you seriously telling me that you're the reason my rent didn't go up? That's why my landlord suddenly had a change of heart?”
He nods miserably and I scoff, anger and disbelief making me shiver.
“I knew it. I knew something was off about that whole situation. But how do you even know Hank? What, did you just go behind my back and–”
“I did some digging,” Ryan admits, his shoulders slumping. “Called in a few favors. I couldn't just sit back and watch you lose everything you've worked so hard for.”
Red bleeds into the edges of my vision. “So, instead, you went sneaking around, lying to my face? Manipulating my life? Jesus Christ, Ryan!”
“Addie, please. I know I fucked up. I know I should've told you, but I was just trying to help.”
“Help?” I repeat. “Is that what you call it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks a whole hell of a lot like a violation of trust. I told you, I begged you, to keep your money out of my business. And you just–what–ignored that? It’s uncalled for.”
Tears burn hot behind my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. I will not cry. Not now. I cannot let my anger turn into tears.
“And to think, I was beating myself up for not being able to make it to your games because of my job. But that's what you wanted all along, isn't it? For me to quit so I could be at your beck and call, cheering you on like a good little best friend?”
“No!” he bursts out, taking a step toward me. I flinch back instinctively, and he freezes. “Addison, I swear that's not what this was about. I just wanted to make your life a little easier. I wanted to take care of you.”
I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. “Take care of me? Ryan, I'm not a child. I'm not some damsel in distress who needs a big strong man to swoop in and solve all her problems. I thought you of all people understood that. Like it’s literally why we’re friends in the first place.”
“I do, Ads. Fuck. I do understand that, I promise. I just – I couldn't stand seeing you run yourself into the ground. You're so damn stubborn and independent and I love that about you, I really do. But sometimes you don’t have to do it all alone. I have all this money sitting in my bank account, and I couldn’t sit back and watch you stress and struggle. Is that so wrong?”
I close my eyes briefly, my head spinning. I don't know what to think, what to feel. Everything I thought I knew feels like it's been tilted on its axis.
When I open them again, Ryan is watching me. It looks like it's taking everything in him not to reach for me.
“I need space. I can't do this right now,” I mutter. “I have to get out of here.”
Panic flashes across his face and he moves to block my path. “Addie, wait. Please don't leave. Not like this. Just let me explain.”
“Explain what, Ryan?” I ask. “How you deliberately went behind my back and lied to me for months? How you are the reason I even got evicted so, what? So, I'd have no choice but to move in with you?”
The words taste like poison on my tongue, but I can't seem to stop them. Every fear, every insecurity I've ever had about our relationship is bubbling to the surface, acidic and unavoidable.
“Did you cook up this whole fake dating scheme too? Was that just a ploy to get me to see you as more? What's next, Ryan? Are you going to loosen the bolts on my tires so I can’t drive away?”
“Whoa, hey, no!” He looks absolutely horrified. “Addison, I would never... that's not... you know me. You know that's not what this is.”
A tiny, rational part of me knows he's right. Knows that Ryan, my Ryan, would sooner cut off his own arm than ever hurt me. But I never would have thought he would do anything like this either.
“I need a minute to process all of this,” I whisper, hating the way my voice cracks. “I can’t be here.”
Ryan looks like I've just ripped his beating heart from his chest. But he nods, stepping back to let me pass. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. If that's what you need, I... I understand. But Addie?”
I pause, hand on the bedroom door. “What?”
“I love you,” he says simply. Like it's a fact.
Like it's the only thing he knows for sure.
“I love you and I just wanted to help you because I can't stand the thought of you hurting or struggling. I fucked up the execution, I know I did. But my intentions were pure, Ads. They always have been when it comes to you. I would do just about anything for you.”
The tears spill over, tracking hot and fast down my cheeks. I swipe at them angrily. “I need to go.”
And then I'm moving, practically running through the house, ignoring Ryan's pleas for me to wait, to let him explain. I can't. I can't hear anymore, or I'll shatter into a million jagged pieces.
I'm sobbing openly by the time I reach my car, my hands shaking so badly it takes three tries to get the key in the ignition. Ryan stands silhouetted in the doorway, his shoulders bowed under the weight of my anguish.
“Addison,” he calls, his voice cracking. “I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.”
But I just shake my head, throwing the car into reverse and peeling out of the driveway. I catch a glimpse of his face in the rearview mirror before I round the corner and then he's gone.
And I'm alone. Again. Like I always seem to end up.
I sit in my parked car, gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline as hot tears stream down my face.
The weight of Ryan's confession presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
He's been hiding this from me for months, going behind my back to pay my rent like I'm some kind of charity case.
I know, deep down, that he was just trying to help.
That's who Ryan is – a man who would do anything to make the people he loves happy.
But damn it, I'm not a child. I'm a grown woman who's been handling her own shit for years.
I don't need him to swoop in and save me, no matter how much he might want to.
He called me stubborn, and maybe he was right. But is it so wrong to want to stand on my own two feet? To prove to myself and the world that I can do this on my own without a mother and really barely a father.
A fresh wave of tears blurs my vision and I angrily swipe at them, hating how weak and pathetic I feel. I'm drowning in hurt and confusion, my mind spinning in endless circles as I try to make sense of it all.
If I'm being honest, I'm not just crying over Ryan. I'm crying for the gaping hole in my life where a family should be. For the relationships, I've let wither and die in the name of self-preservation.
I find myself reaching for my phone and dialing a number I haven't called in years. My dad.
We haven't spoken in a very long time, but right now, he's the only person I can think of who might understand the aching void in my chest.
The phone rings once, twice, three times. I hold my breath, suddenly terrified he won't pick up.
But then I hear it – a click and then my father's deep voice. “Addie?”
I pause, trying to stop the tears.
“Hi, Dad.” The words come out strangled, choked with tears.
“Hi. It’s been a while.”
“I don’t know why I’m calling,” I confess, trying to hide the pain in my voice. “I guess I needed you.”
“I need you too, sweet pea.”
His nickname for me sends more tears streaming down my face. “I’m sorry.”
The phone is silent on the other end, and then I hear a sniffle. “I’m sorry too.”
“I just…I have this hole, dad, and it’s like no matter what I do, I’m lost in it.” Tears stream down my face as my chest bounces. “I want so badly to get out of it.”
I’m sobbing now, trying to control my breathing before I sink deep into a panic attack. I take a deep breath as the tears roll down my face. The hole in my heart is always present. Losing a loved one is unlike any other life experience. Sometimes, I don’t think I can go on.
“I’m in it too, sweet pea.” I can hear his silent tears over the phone, and my breath starts to stutter from holding back my sobs.
“Does this ever get any easier?” I cry, begging for any words of advice. I carry my mom’s death with me every single day. Time has not healed me. I am still that broken little girl who lost her mom all these years later.
“I don’t think it does, but we have to try. We try for her.” My dad breaks down. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be better for you, Addie. I live my life every day wishing I could go back in time and have my family back.”
I lean my head into my hands as the tears fall down my face. My dad would never allow me to talk openly about my mom. It was a wound too close, so I’m grateful for this.
“I miss you, dad.” “I miss you, too.”
“I’m sorry if it’s hard to be around me. I see her more and more in the mirror as the years go by, and I understand.”
“I’m sorry, Addison.”
The phone is silent as I continue to cry. I hear him sniffle a few times.
After a minute, I wipe my eyes. “Do you remember Ryan?”
“The Wilder boy?”
“Yeah,” I smile through the tears. “The Wilder boy.”
“You still friends with him?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m shacking it up with him now, actually.” “Wow.”
“Yeah, but maybe not anymore.”
“Well, what happened?”
I explain the story as much as I can without getting sidetracked. But in the end, my dad says, “It sounds like he loves you and wants to take care of you, Addie. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I sigh. “But even with the going behind my back and making a secret deal with my landlord.”
He says, “Yeah, even with that. If he told you he was doing it, would you have let him?”
“No.” “Okay. So, there’s a young man who’s in love with you and doesn’t want to see you struggle––”
“Dad,” I stop him. “He didn’t have to go behind my back though. He could’ve let me work the second job and let me figure this out on my own.”
My dad says, “You’ve always been able to take care of yourself, and I’m so proud of you for that. Maybe I’m from a different time, sweet pea, but I don’t see a damn problem in a man trying to help you. It doesn’t matter if he did it this way or that way, in the end, did it help you?”
I sigh, not wanting to hear this perspective. “I stopped stressing out, so yes, it did.”
“You know what I call a man that wants to help a woman?”
“What?” I ask.
“Husband material.”
Now I’m laughing because I thought he was going in the opposite direction with that.
“I love you, Dad. Thank you. For picking up the phone, for talking me down.”
“I love you too, sweet pea. More than anything in this world. I know I haven't always shown it the way I should have, but I'm here, Addie. Whenever you need me.”
Tears prick at my eyes, but for once, they don't feel like defeat. They feel like healing. “Promise?”
“Yes, what do you say I take you out for breakfast.”
“I'd like that,” I say, meaning it. “Actually, I know the perfect place. I’ll send you the address.”
We say our goodbyes and I hang up, exhaling a shaky breath. That wasn’t the advice I was hoping to get, but sometimes a third-person perspective is all someone needs. I’m relieved to have reconciled with my dad, but I still don’t know what I’m going to do about Ryan Wilder.
My goalie, my favorite flavor, the China Wall, my man. I have a decision to make, and the time is ticking. It’s either I stay mad, or I learn to forgive.